


sacrement

by bellezza



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Body Worship, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Religion Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:32:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2788478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellezza/pseuds/bellezza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Making love is a religious experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sacrement

**Author's Note:**

> It's amazing how this game turned me from despising Cullen to Trevalyan/Cullen shipping trash.

She is the Herald to their followers, the chosen of Andraste, and though her closest people know she is just a woman, she knows she’s a symbol to them too. She can see it in Cassandra’s steadfast dedication and Leliana’s quiet devotion; she hears it in Dorian's good-natured humor and Josephine’s earnest hope. It’s in Mother Giselle’s age-soft hand on hers, even hidden beneath the sharp edges of Vivienne’s polished smiles. 

Most of all, she feels it when she and Cullen make love.

He worships her body, writes his devotion into her skin with lips and teeth and tongue. He touches her and her body sings, sings the way it does when she opens herself as a channel for her magic, the way it did when she was sixteen and at her harrowing and touching lyrium for the first time.

He calls her by name but she hears the prayer wrapped up in that single word. He maps her body with calloused hands, trails kisses over her heart and between her breasts, and she knots her fingers into his hair in benediction.  _Please, may I?_  he asks, his breath warm on her stomach, and she says,  _Yes, please_.

Then he dips lower and his breath is on her thigh and his mouth is on her and,  _oh_ , it feels like everything the sisters ever said heaven should be, and nothing like it at all. Surely when the Chant sings of divine bliss and joyful repose, Andraste can’t have meant this: this man between her legs, his tongue licking into her like a drowning man. Surely it’s heresy to think of it, but they call her Andraste’s herald, and this feels nothing short of  _right_.

She arches back and moans, cries out when he slips a finger inside of her, then a second. It’s not the mark on her hand that’s her anchor, it’s him, her hands clutched tight in his hair to keep her from spinning out into the Void.  _Maker_ , she whines,  _Cullen, you—_  

And then he drags his teeth over her clit and sucks on it, and she cannot say anything at all. She can only pitch and writhe and cry as she rides it through.

_You are a miracle_ , he tells her when the tremors pass, with a kiss pressed to the inside of her thigh, and she is made new.


End file.
